The Intelligence Unit Series
The Guardian Chapter 26

Nicky looked up at the sound of the alert on his laptop. He'd waited all week, his fingers itchingto move on the money that was rightfully his, the one last payday that would make this the biggest, best job anyone in Remington had ever done. The transaction that would make his name the most revered, the most respected, in the business, not to mention make him rich as f**k in the process.

It's time.

The message was from his contact, of course. The man might be a pain in Nicky's a*s, but he was certainly as well-connected as he bragged. It was accompanied by an attachment, and Nicky smiled as he clicked his way through the official M.E.'s report that would seal the fate of this case as an unsolvable crime.

At least, until he framed Delia Sutton for it. Speaking of which...

Nicky shifted screens until an aerial map appeared, one tiny location circled in red and starred. He'd had to pay a ridiculous sum for these coordinates. Information always was more expensive than any other commodity, and in this case, the person selling the knowledge knew it. Still, it was a means to an end, and Nicky would recoup the money easily enough once he killed the contact, regaining the cut that weasel thought he'd take and Peyton's share. Nicky never left loose ends. He wasn't about to start now.

He opened the browser tab to an offshore bank in the Maldives, smiling at the transfer he'd set up days ago, just waiting for him to click the complete transaction button and set this whole happy ending into motion. Excitement pulsed through him as he hovered the arrow over the button, letting the anticipation build for just a moment before clicking through, watching with happiness as the dollar amounts registered.

By this time tomorrow, Delia Sutton would be dead, and Nicky could toast her memory as he thought of the screams she'd made while he forced her to watch him gut her.

***

Garza was floating.Okay, he had to be dreaming and floating, because clearly, gravity was a thing unless you were having a rendezvous with the sandman. Or, maybe if you were dead, he supposed. But he didn't feel dead. He felt warm. Happy with Delia in his arms. Wait...where was she?

Panic setting in, Garza thrashed around, peering through the darkness to try and replace her. She'd been right here. How could he have lost her? He began to search for her, trying to run, to scream out her name. But the floating made it impossible to move with urgency, as if he were stuck in slow motion. The harder he tried, the more his motions elongated, and f**k, he needed to replace her. He needed to keep her safe. He needed-

The buzz of his cell phone yanked him awake.

"Christ," Garza bit out, trying to shake off the nightmare. Easier said than done, since he'd had-ugh, what the f**k-only six hours of sleep. Who the hell was calling him just shy of seven a.m.?

Maxwell.

Well, that woke his a*s up. "What is it?" Garza blurted, because at this point, pleasantries could kiss his a*s. Maxwell wouldn't call him unless something was wrong.

Delia sat up, eyes wide, but she kept quiet as he pressed the phone to his ear.

"Garza, listen to me. The FBI yanked us from the case."

"What?" Garza half-yelled, his heart vaulting against his sternum. "What the hell? They can't do that."

"They can and they did," Maxwell said, sparing a second for an inventive curse. "Hale and I checked in at the Thirty-Third. We wanted to tag up with Hollister on the M.E's report before heading back out to relieve the overnight patrol officers, but we were stopped by two field agents. They said they'd taken full jurisdiction of the case and that Roman was in charge. Apparently, he's on his way to you now."

"What? Why?" Garza's pulse whacked faster, and he hit the speakerphone icon as he scrambled for his jeans and his weapon, wordlessly prompting Delia to get dressed, too.

"I don't know, but Capelli double-checked, and the change in jurisdiction is legit. Sinclair's on the phone with Roman's supervisor right now, and while his office door is closed, he looks royally pissed."

"I don't trust this," Garza said, his instincts going berserk. "Something's wrong, here, Maxwell."

"I'm not disagreeing. These asshats have us pinned down, here-they're not letting us leave the precinct. I don't know what Roman found or why he's shutting us out. Intelligence has been locked out of all the case files. We don't have access to a damn thing. Capelli's on it," Maxwell added, giving Garza the only ray of hope he could. "But for now, we're flying blind."

"Copy that," Garza said. Think, think, he needed to think. "Okay. I'm going to keep you on the line once Roman gets here. I don't trust him for shit. Can you record the call?"

"Affirmative." Maxwell let go of a harsh breath. "I don't like this, G."

"I don't, either." A bang on the door told Garza they were out of time. "Roman's here. Just be my ears while I figure this out, okay?"

Garza looked at Delia, who had thrown on a red T-shirt and a pair of jeans, along with a pair of Chucks. Her blond hair was still sleep-mussed, her stare wild and frightened, and damn it, he was never going to forgive Roman for putting that look on her face. "Listen to me," he said, keeping his voice low to ensure that Roman caught no strains of the conversation. "Whatever's going on here, I have you, okay? Nothing bad is going to happen."

"O-okay." Delia looked at him. Focused. Then said, "Okay. Yes," with more conviction.

"There you go."

Taking her hand, Garza led the way to the living room just in time for Roman to bang on the door again. "FBI! Open the door."

Jesus, this guy needed a hobby. Garza slid his phone beneath the top two pages of a magazine on the coffee table before turning toward the door. "Coming," he snapped, leveling the intimidation field.

"Stay right here, close to the kitchen," Garza told Delia, jerking his chin at the back door. "I don't know what's going on, but whatever this is, I don't want you in the middle of it. Okay?"

Her nod was broken, but it was enough. With one hand on his weapon, he moved to the door, where a furiously mad-looking Roman stood on the porch.

Garza disarmed the alarm and threw the door open, but let himself fill the space rather than stepping back to give Roman an inch. "What."

Roman hitched ever so slightly before saying, "Step aside, Garza. I'm here to take Delia in for questioning."

Of all the things Roman could've possibly popped off with, that had been in the basement of Garza's expectations.

"What the f**k are you even talking about?" Garza asked, his words mingling in with Delia's gasp from behind him.

Roman didn't budge. "The FBI has reason to believe she's colluding with Nicky Bianchi, and that she's been in on all of this from the beginning. We've taken full jurisdiction of this case, effective immediately. Now, step aside, or I'll have you arrested for impeding with a federal investigation."

The words f**k directly off burned on Garza's tongue, begging to be let loose. But since the vast majority of the responses to that action ended up with one or both of them gravely injured and Garza likely out of a job, Garza allowed Roman only the space he needed to enter the cabin, nothing more. Roman scanned the space exactly as Garza would've, his amber-colored eyes sharpening on Delia in a way that made Garza want to rip the man limb from limb.

Focus. Keep his attention on you until you can figure out your next move. "Start talking," Garza said.

Rather than take offense at the gruff directive, Roman answered with what looked like glee. "A few hours ago, the FBI received an anonymous tip that a large sum of money had been moved remotely into an offshore account in the Maldives. The money was transferred from Silhouette, LLC into an account in Delia's name."

A noise of uncut shock flew out of Delia, echoing the feeling in Garza's gut. "That's impossible," she said. "I've been right here this entire time."

"Under our noses, I know," Roman said. "As I said, the transfer was made remotely. Our team is working on tracing it right now, but we believe it was set up in advance. Excellent try on the alibi, though."

Delia blinked, her tone growing teeth. "My alibi is legitimate because I didn't steal any money."

"You'll have to tell that to the agents at the field office. Let's go."

Garza stepped forward, inserting himself between Roman and Delia. "She's not going with you."

Roman halved the space between them, bringing them so close their chests were nearly touching. "I'd prefer not to arrest and handcuff her, but we can go that way if that's how you want to play it. But no matter what, she is absolutely coming with me." Delia paled, and damn it. Roman had the power to detain and restrain, and Garza had none to stop him. "Roman, don't do this. You're making a huge mistake."

Roman laughed, sharp and low. "And you're too blind to see that she's been scamming you from the start. We've got evidence that all that money laundering you'd pinned on Peyton Willoughby was really Delia all along. She's the one who doctored those accounts. She's the one who hid those files. And she snuck into Peyton's office to do it so she had someone to blame. I've got to hand it to you, Ms. Sutton," he said, his eyes shark-mean as he turned toward the spot where Delia stood frozen to the floorboards. "You're extremely smart. So smart that you nearly got away with it. But you've got a lot to answer for, and I'm not interested in waiting anymore."

He made a move for Delia, and fear made Garza's throat work independently of his brain. "Wait," he said, scrambling for something, anything with which to back it up. "If you have to take her in, then I'm going with you."

"You shouldn't even be here to begin with," Roman snapped. "And Intelligence is off the case. You're not coming with us."

"She's still a witness. Bianchi could-"

Roman cut him off. "She's in on it, Detective. She was never in any danger."

Change tactics, dude. Stall. Do something to keep her safe. "So, what? You're just going to leave me here, in the middle of nowhere? I may be off the case, but I'm still a cop."

"No," Roman said slowly. "I'm not leaving you here. Not indefinitely, anyway. As soon as I take Delia into custody, a patrol unit will be dispatched from the RPD to retrieve you."

Garza's brain spun, whipping through scenarios and strategies and endgames. He wanted to rage, to tell Roman he was out of his goddamn mind, to force the fucker to stop and take a breath, see reason. But as crazy as these accusations were, this was a directive from the freaking FBI, and Maxwell had backed up the change in jurisdiction. If Roman was going rogue, then he'd somehow managed to get an entire field office to go off-book along with him.

That was snowball + hell likely, so for now, as much as Garza hated this-and f**k, he really hated this-he needed to play the long game and figure out what the hell was going on. He had no doubt that Roman meant what he'd said about arresting him for impeding with an investigation, and he couldn't help Delia from a jail cell.

Right now, she needed a good cop above all, so that's what he'd give her.

"Delia, listen to me," he said, moving away from Roman to look at her. "I don't know what's going on here, but I will replace out. Don't say a word-not one word-until you get an attorney. Do you understand?" he asked.

"I...what?" She shook her head as if what he'd said didn't translate. "This is crazy, Matteo. I didn't-"

"I know, sweetheart." Garza hated to cut her off, but he needed to keep her calm. "Everyone in the unit knows you had nothing to do with this, okay? I promise you, I'll figure it out."

"What about Nicky?" Delia asked, her voice trembling.

"Hey." Hooking a thumb beneath her chin, he guided her gaze up and met it with his own. "Not even Nicky Bianchi can get to you at an FBI field office. My guess is, he's trying to set you up for this. As soon as Maxwell and Hale get here, I'll be right behind you, okay? We'll get everything sorted out and replace Nicky. No worries."

Roman snorted from behind him, and it took every ounce of Garza's self-control not to react.

"I'm scared," Delia whispered.

Garza's instincts snarled and snapped, but he forced himself to hold steady. "You're tough," he said, tapping her necklace with a finger. "Don't worry. I've got you. I'm always going to have you."

Understanding dawned on her face. As long as she had that tracker on, he'd know exactly where she was. He'd be right there with her, no matter what. "Okay."

Delia stepped toward Roman, her head high. "Fine. I'll go with you," she said.

"Cute that you think you have a choice," he replied, opening the front door to usher her out.

The second it closed, Garza pounced on his phone.

He needed his woman back, and he didn't give a single shit what he had to do to make it happen.